I spent part of the morning at Metropolis. I was studying Hebrew and trying to write an article for HEEB magazine. I’m not sure I have enough attitude for Heeb yet, but I’m trying to find that snarky backbone to be able to write a funny 500 words about being a Heeksa.
What’s a Heeksa? I’m a heeksa. I’m somewhere between shiksa and heeb. It is offensive at some level, funny at another, and a perfect description for becoming a Jew but having 28 years of Gentile memories.
While Jews across the internet criticized the book Boy Vey! A Shiksa’s Guide to Dating Jewish Men, I ate it up. Why? I’m almost a Jew-By-Choice, but I will never, not for all the torah I study, books I read, seders I attend, be a born jew. Never. So anything that will give me insight into the mind of jewish men–bring it on. And written by a Shiksa? Even better, we are starting from the same place.
I want to get a Neighborhoodie that says Heeksa, but am not sure I’m ready to cross that boundary. While I read and enjoyed the book Cunt and read and enjoy the magazine Heeb, I’ve never put on a Cunt belt buckle or an Honorary Heeb t-shirt. I can say it, but can I be a billboard for it. Do I want to have that conversation–Heeksa? What’s that?
The first time I heard the word Shiksa was from Mr. Gardenshwartz in Durango, Colorado. “Oh, she’s just his shiksa squeeze, it will never last.” I liked it, because it meant she was with a Jewish man. That sounded fantastic. The first time I heard someone say Heeb was leaving my temple on the secular New Year’s Eve. “Us Hoosier Heebs have gotta stick together.” He was admonished by his wife to behave, but I liked the ownership of the once painful word and the humour behind it. Hoosier Heebs and Mountain Shiksas.
So. Heeksa, that’s what I am right now. Even after I dip into the mikvah, I think it will still be the right word and by then I might be bold enough to wear the shirt.